Love is the first lie; wisdom the last.

The heart of the jealous knows the best and most satisfying love, that of the other's bed, where the rival perfects the lover's imperfections.

God, children know something they can't tell; they like Red Riding Hood and the wolf in bed!

Love becomes the deposit of the heart, analogous in all degrees to the 'findings' in a tomb. As in one will be charted the taken place of the body, the raiment, the utensils necessary to its other life, so in the heart of the lover will be traced, as an indelible shadow, that which he loves.

To think is to be sick.

For most people, life is nasty, brutish, and short; for me, it has simply been nasty and brutish.

Certainty always produces questions, uncertainty statements. It is a balancing law of nature.